


royal-tea

by Anonymous



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You are definitely on the path to becoming the worst prince ever.”George smirked, tilting his head. “As defending champion, how do you feel?”
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68
Collections: Anonymous





	royal-tea

“Dude.”

“You can’t ‘dude’ me when there are people around,” hissed Alex. “It’s funny when we’re alone, it’s not when we’re surrounded by high-ranking officials who happen to be insanely uptight.”

George’s nose twitched. “That’s no fun, what’s the point of picking up that stupid word if I’m not allowed to use it?”

“This is why those tabloids won’t stop painting you as a moron, you don’t know when to shut up.” Alex looked up at the ornate ceiling, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly through slightly parted lips. “I shouldn’t have come here, what were my parents thinking?”

To his right, George was twiddling with the tassel tie-backs. “That I’d be bored so they wisely sent someone my age, thank fuck.”

Alex bristled at the younger’s obscenity. “You can’t say that!” Onlookers would have thought the prince’s neck was going to snap from how fast he turned to glare at the other.

“Why not?” A mischievous grin spread across George’s face. “Scared that they’ll hear me? They can’t do anything to me, you realize that. I’m a prince and they’re a bunch of fat, balding men who think they’re above everyone else just because they have titles.”

“Oh my God,” mumbled Alex under his breath, eyes darting about nervously. He truly regretted telling his bodyguard to stay outside the ballroom because there was now no one around to hold him back from smothering George.

“Lighten up,” said George. “You know I’m right.”

“I _know_ ,” Alex emphasized, huffing a little. “Doesn’t mean you have to announce it to the world.”

“I only brought it up with you though.” George shot Alex an uncharacteristic soft smile. “The world, huh?”

Oh, yes. They had been doing this _thing_ for a couple of months now. Alex didn’t know what to call it and judging from the way George shut down whenever he attempted to broach the topic, neither did he. It didn’t sit right with him, being unable to talk freely about something with someone who was supposedly his best friend, but he lacked the confidence to press the issue. Maybe they’d discuss it one day, maybe they’d pretend nothing happened and move on with their lives.

Alex hated himself for hoping it would be the former case.

“Shut up,” he replied weakly, bumping elbows with George. There were no journalists in the palace tonight to take millions of photos and splash their faces across the front page tomorrow, so they were slightly more relaxed than usual. Adverse publicity sucked.

George snickered, draping an arm over Alex’s shoulder. “My dear Alex, would you be so kind as to leave this place with me? Let’s find something fun to do.” He patted the older’s chest twice, thankfully unaware of the crimson red blush infusing Alex’s cheeks. “What say you?”

“Why do you keep phrasing things weirdly?” Alex silently enjoyed the warmth of having George physically close to him for a couple of seconds before shoving him off, trying and failing miserably to get his heartbeat under control. “We can’t leave, we’re here on royal duty.”

Well, at least he was. George was only there because the crown prince, his older brother, was sick and could not attend. For some reason, George took this notion as his freedom to be as irresponsible as possible without getting removed from the line of succession to his kingdom’s throne. He nearly crossed the line with his shenanigans a few times, making headlines everywhere—even Charles, the prince from the sole remaining Eastern monarchy, caught wind of his mischief.

“What if I leave and you cover for me?”

“You are definitely on the path to becoming the worst prince ever.”

George smirked, tilting his head. “As defending champion, how do you feel?”

“I hate you so much.” Alex nudged George in the stomach, careful not to exert too much force. “Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you.”

“And I hate Lando for showing you modern memes. God, I miss the times when you were clueless about this type of meme. What happened to the rage comics? I vividly recall you sending me a fucking rage comic at three in the afternoon when you were supposed to be mingling with old ladies, I didn’t forget and never will.” George swiftly avoided the subtle kick to his foot that Alex was aiming for.

“We don’t talk about the rage comics,” whispered Alex, sneaking a hand behind George to pinch him. “Shut up.”

“We will talk about the rage comics, just not right now.” George nodded in the direction of the crowd of politicians and Alex followed his line of sight. They both frowned at the group of men heading toward where they were standing and exchanged glances.

Alex quirked an eyebrow. George inclined his head solemnly.

“Nose goes,” they spoke in unison, touching their noses. Alex was fractionally faster than George and he emitted a controlled whoop of delight, deriving pleasure from George’s sigh of despair. They hated making small talk with sycophants and this game was their method of escape.

“You’ll live,” Alex mock-comforted, placing a hand on George’s upper arm. “I’ll go out to find Max then come back to free you from their clutches. It’s the least I can do for you after you rescued me last time.” To this very day, he was unable to eat mangoes without being plagued with horrid images of the woman’s pale face.

George rolled his eyes and shooed him away, and Alex knew him well enough to notice the playfulness evaporating from his body, his jaw setting and posture becoming rigid.

Quickly extracting himself from the scene, Alex wove through the crowd until he came to a stop in front of the emergency exit. He pushed the door open and immediately laid eyes upon his bodyguard.

Shutting the door, Alex blinked owlishly. “Why are you sitting on the handrail?”

“I don’t see any chairs here, Your Highness.” Jumping off, the uniformed figure dusted off his hands and leaned against the wall. “What’s the plan?”

“What plan?”

“Let me guess, faking illness?” Max hummed thoughtfully. “No, we did that last time. We should do something different.”

“What? No! I’m not leaving,” Alex responded. “Code Purple, Max.”

Max whistled lowly. “That’s a first. Lead the way then, Your Highness. Can’t let him suffer, your heart won’t be able to take it.” He winked at Alex, obviously teasing him about his crush(?). Being a bodyguard, little to none slipped past Max. Even Alex’s developing feelings were not spared.

“I hate you,” Alex muttered, stepping aside to give Max access to the door. “I really hate you.”

“I bet that’s what you told him all night,” Max whispered in his ear, tone resonating with smugness. He straightened his back and opened the door an inch, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously. “Come on, Your Highness. We have a boyfriend in distress to save.”

Alex folded his arms. “You are insufferable, I’m replacing you.”

“Sure you are,” Max cooed, holding the door open for Alex.

“Children, I’m dealing with children,” Alex grumbled, re-entering the ballroom with Max hot on his heels. He couldn’t wait for the event to be over with and to return to his hotel room where he'd dwell on his emotions in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> that's it, thanks for reading


End file.
